“…is serving pints and clearing tables. Imagine, the man we bow and curtsy to is taking orders from a frizzy-haired, American hippy. It’s incredible. I’m stunned.”
The voice of the lead anchor, Stone Brubaker, broke in. “Can you get closer, Leslie Ann? I can’t quite make him out.”
“The pub is closed so I can’t go in, but I see him showering down the kitchen. Let me climb up here—” She stood on the outer deck railing and raised the phone to the window.
The image faded and bobbled, but after a few seconds, she captured HRH Prince Augustus Carwyn George, shirtless, aiming a hose at the greasy kitchen floors.
“My, my, my. Our prince. How do you like that?” Surprised laughter elevated Stone’s voice. “Leslie Ann, you’ve captured the story of the year. Our spare heir—a kitchen yeoman.”
“I rather like his beard.” This from a female voice Gus couldn’t place. “And those abs. Leslie Ann, get closer. Our Prince Pudgy has been working out.”
He felt sick as the clip zoomed, catching the dirt on the windows as well as Gus’s hard-earned eight pack.
The time stamp proved she’d been filming him live. Two in the morning in Florida was the second hour of Lauchtenland’s most popular wake-up show.
Then while he slept, Lauchtenland—theworld—woke up to a House of Blue royal wielding a mop. Well, so what? Royals weren’t above honest, hard work. But she identified theCaptain’s Hideaway.
Helene’s quaint little business just hit the global map. Gus skimmed the rest of his texts. Most were of the same clip. A few were links to royal reporters’ or royal watchers’ social media accounts.
How did this— Daffy. She’d outed him to her friend. The girl who’d locked her lips and thrown away the key must have picked it up on her way back to her table. One night. She didn’t keep his secret for one night.
Gus yanked on a T-shirt and shorts and headed out by way of the pool deck, steam fueling his every move. Crossing the pool deck, he exited the gate and cut through the tall, waving sea grass toward the beach.
Lauchtenland headlines were one thing. The press portrayed him as they wanted. He was used to it. But betrayal from a friend? No. He’d not tolerate it.Not one more betrayal.
He’d hid his head in the sand when Coral left and again when Robbi confessed she’d been spending time with her ex. But not this time. Fighting words brewed as he stormed down the beach, sand kicking up in his wake.
A new text arrived from John with a link to Daffy’s Instagram. She’d posted three pictures of him in various stages of disarray as he cleaned.
Our Prince Pudgy has abs, ladies. Catch Leslie Ann Parker’sMorning ShowYouTube if you missed the story. #royalwatcher #houseofblue #princegus @leslieannparker
The wind raced with him, pushing from behind while swirling ahead of him. Seagulls soared on the current, cawing their approval. Even the sun burned bold and warm.
His jog burst into a run when the blue cottage came into view. The seagulls dropped down in front of him and landed on the deck, squawking his arrival.
Gus hammered the sliding glass door. “Daffy, open up. Now.” He cupped his hands about his eyes and peered inside. “Daffodil Caron!”
Leslie Ann dashed into the lounge from the hallway, her posture one of surprise, then determination as she opened the door.
“Your Royal Highness, how can I help?”
Gus shoved past her. “Where’s Daffy?”
“Sleeping. What do you want?”
He flashed his phone. “You know what I want.” He stationed himself at the top of the short bedroom passage. “Daffy Caron, I need to speak to you!”
“What’s all the commotion?” Ella emerged from her quarters with disheveled hair, her sunburnt legs protruding from a short sleeping shirt. “Prince Gus… Your Royal Highness.” She tugged on the hem of her top and offered a wobbly curtsy.
“Your sister, if you please.” Stiff-backed, he folded his arms and waited.
“Yes, sir.” Ella whirled toward the remaining closed door, knocking once, then entering. Muffled voices carried through the wall.
“Would you like some tea?” Leslie Ann offered him a cordial smile. “I brought some from home.”
Gus didn’t answer.
“Are you angry?” He heard the clank of the kettle against the burner. “I’m sorry, but I did my job, Your Royal Highness. I’d do it again.”
